


Deny Deny Denial

by Becausebarakat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Heavy Angst, No Dialogue, Self-Harm, Seriously this is angsty, Stiles Stilinski-centric, Whump, basically only stiles thoughts, no relationships lol - Freeform, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29973177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Becausebarakat/pseuds/Becausebarakat
Summary: Stiles reflecting on his eating disorder and where it all went wrong.Please read the tags and be careful.
Kudos: 7





	Deny Deny Denial

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not read if eating disorders are triggering to you. This is a graphic description of Stiles’s eating disorder, and basically nothing else. Also minor tw for self harm. It’s mentioned a few times, but not graphically. 
> 
> This story is based on my person struggle with eating and basically everything in the story comes from that. However, all eating problems are different. Basically just a major vent fic

Stiles knows logically that other people wouldn’t find his body repulsive. But every time he looks in the mirror, he can’t help but feel disappointed. There’s so much he hates about himself that he can’t change, so the one thing he can change is his body. He tries. He tries so hard to try to change the one aspect about himself that he can. He can’t change his face or his personality, but he can be skinnier. He knows it’s fucked up, but people are always kinder to you if you’re skinner. If he’s annoying, loud, and fat, his classmates are far less likely to put up with him than when he is skinner.

It’s not all about how he looks, because when he is skinnier, he doesn’t feel any better. It’s also about how much he hates himself; starving himself hurts him, and he would give anything to feel something other than completely filled with self-hatred or numbness. At first, it helped. He also knows that it stopped helping, but now that he has started this, he knows he probably will never be able to escape the disordered thoughts. Finally, he knows deep down that it has something to do with control. He hates admitting that; it makes him feel so stupid. He’s spent more time than he cares to admit on tumblr reading the posts of people with eating disorders (he does not have an eating disorder, just disordered eating, thank you very much), and every time he reads about that fact that fasting is a way of control for basically everyone. He thinks it’s stupid. If anything, not eating makes him feel less in control. But deep down, he’s aware that there is some aspect that relates to control, he is just not sure what yet. 

It was never really a surprise when it started. Since he was 13, he has always had thoughts that probably are not considered healthy. He’s just always been painfully aware that eating less is an option, and a really great one. When he was younger, he would try to not eat, and it never really worked. He would always lose control at some point in the day and eat. He would try and make up for it by going for runs every day to try and stay slimmer. And it worked, he did stay rather slim, and he was okay with it. He didn’t really eat that much anyway, so he didn’t care when he did. Just sometimes, the idea of not eating lingered in the back of his mind. 

But when he was 16, it wasn’t enough anymore. His sophomore year, something changed. Now, Stiles has never been the happiest kid, was a little more prone to sadness than his classmates, but he wasn’t necessarily unhappy. For some reason, in sophomore year, it seemed like even though nothing had changed, he was slipping. It started off in subtle ways: he was tired all the time, it was harder to make himself do his homework, and he couldn’t concentrate even with the Adderall. As the year went on, he kept slipping further. He found himself spending more and more time alone because he couldn’t fathom having the energy to get out of bed and fake his usually happy demeanor around his dad and Scott. He didn’t really recognize it to be a problem until it got to the point where he couldn’t go a single day without wanting to hurt himself. He didn’t do it often, and it really does disgust him, but what helps, helps and who can blame him. 

That wasn’t the problem though. Stiles can handle the depression, but what he fucking hates himself for now is how he handled it. He didn’t even realize what he was doing. When he turned 16, he grew 4 inches to 5’10. Not only did he hit a growth spurt, but his appetite increased exponentially to compensate for his new height. And he didn’t realize. So, he ate more than he should have because his appetite was through the roof, and he was finding comfort in the food. Comfort that he couldn’t find anywhere else, so he kept eating. He didn’t fucking realize how much he was eating because all he could think about every day is how much he wanted to fucking kill himself. 

But by the spring of his sophomore year, it hit him like a truck. A little over a month before lacrosse season started, he had to get a physical. He stopped running this year, so he expected to have gained like five pounds, but what he was not expecting was to have gained 20. He was fine when he weighed 145, but he was absolutely not okay weighing 165. 

He guesses that’s where it all started for real, if he had to pick a time. When he got home that day, he spent a long time just staring at his reflection in the mirror. It was at this point that he finally noticed the changes in his body. He felt so so so stupid that he didn’t notice before. He has always liked his cheekbones; he likes how they’re prominent and his cheeks and jaw look defined. But looking at the mirror, he realized that he had lost so much definition in his face. His cheeks looked swollen, and his jaw had a small layer of fat that was visible from the side (especially when he smiled). His arms were thicker than usual, but since he has never been muscular, they just looked fat. His stomach had a small pouch at the bottom that poked out over his pants a little further than comfortable. And finally, his legs were wider and flabbier. He wasn’t fat, he knew that, but he was heavier than he felt comfortable with. He didn’t like to be soft, and his body could not be described as anything other than soft. 

So he decided to make a change, and like everything in his life, it started slowly. For a few weeks, he tried skipping breakfast and lunch, and only eating dinner. But he found that whenever he got to dinner, he would eat far too much and just end up hating himself. It was like he couldn’t control the amount he was eating because he was so fucking hungry. Yes, he lost weight, but not enough. So, then he tried to make himself throw up after dinner. He would eat too much for dinner, and then go to the bathroom to try and fix what he had done. After a week of this, the only thing that changed was that he had a constant headache and his throat hurt beyond belief. 

Then, Stiles decided to fuck up his life further by going on tumblr. Looking through the various eating disorder tags, all he could feel was jealousy. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t control himself like everyone else could. But he kept scrolling, and saw countless posts complaining about how bad they were at restricting. That it was easier to just not eat at first, then you would get better at restricting. 

So, he tried. Although it was a year and a half ago, Stiles can remember the first complete day he went without eating. It was the best he had felt in years, so he couldn’t stop. The first few months were easier. And Stiles felt amazing. He doesn’t remember exactly how much he lost, but he knows it was a lot. He would give anything to go back to that time and stop himself from fucking up all his progress. 

But like the fuck up he is, he undid a lot of his progress. After the third month, he just felt so bad all the time. Every day all he thought about was eating. He even dreamed of eating (well, it was more of a nightmare, really). It took over all of his life, and he couldn’t handle it anymore. He felt so shitty. He was tired and aggravated literally all of the time. And one day, it was like a switch flipped. After his longest fast of 6 days, he had to eat an apple to stop himself from passing out. And when he got home, he just couldn’t control himself anymore. Before this, fasting made him feel powerful and excited. But it was starting to make him feel empty and numb. Just like he felt when he was fat. The fasting had been helping him with his depression; he felt excited to go about his day and see his friends. It made him so fucking excited to deny food. But at that point, it made him feel more depressed than before. So, he started eating again. He would go an entire week eating a tad more than he should, just to feel something other than empty. Then the next week, he would alternate between binging and purging and fasting for the next few weeks. This made him feel horrible, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t control himself. It was just like how he felt before, out of control. And dear god, did he hate himself. Every day he had to basically convince himself his life was worth living. 

Every night that he would lay in bed painfully full and with horrible stomach pains, he would hurt himself. He knew that he was using food to hurt himself too, but it wasn’t enough. He had to hurt himself for his food intake. So, he would lay in his bed with a blade in his right hand, dragging it across his leg. 

It’s not like he likes hurting himself, he actually finds it disgusting. Watching the blood seep out of his leg disgusts him; it fills him with regret. But the second his wounds scab over he wants to do it again. The pain is addicting and finally let him feel something other than overwhelming dread. 

As the months went on, Stiles got better about the binging. His eating habits then changed to him going about a month or two at a time eating normally (with maybe a few days a month restricting), albeit with extreme guilt. He hated himself most during these times. He never let himself get back over 150 though. Every time he weighed himself and the scale read anything more than 147.5, he would fall back into restricting. Then he would restrict heavily for a month or two. It was exhausting, and no matter what, he hated himself. It was exhausting. 

Every time he falls back into restricting, it gets worse and longer. And his timeframe of eating normally decreases. 

Now, Stiles is 17, and he’s back to restricting. He’s so exhausted, he can barely believe it. He doesn’t know how much longer he can do this. It’s day 5 of fasting, and he knows he should eat, but he’s scared. He knows that if he waits any longer to break his fast, he’s going to break it with a binge, so he needs to break it now when he has some semblance of control. But he can’t. 

He’s sitting in Scott’s house with an apple and a hard boiled egg on his plate, but he can’t bring himself to eat it. He’s so scared that he’s making a mistake, and that this will cause him to binge. He knows that Scott knows what he’s doing, I mean it’s obvious. And he knows that if he doesn’t eat this, Scott is finally going to say something. He had to stop his run with Scott earlier because he thought he was going to pass out, and now Scott has this stupid fucking look in his eye. 

In fact, Scott is sitting across from him eating a sandwich, and trying (but failing) to not noticeably watch Stiles. 

But he can’t do it. His breathing is speeding up and his hands are shaking, and holy fuck, he can’t make himself eat a fucking apple. He excuses himself to the bathroom and stares at his reflection. All he sees is an ugly face staring back at him with a too large body.

Two months ago, he started this new thing where he fasts for 4 days and restricts for 3. He’s been doing a pretty good job, with a few fuck ups here and there, but overall he’s kept up with it. And of course, he’s lost a lot of weight. He knows that this is the lightest he’s been since before he let himself go. It’s just not enough, though. He wants to lose 10 more pounds; maybe he’ll be happy then. So, he can’t eat this meal, because he binged last weekend and allowed himself to eat three whole slices of pizza. He needs to fast for another day. He can’t get fat again, he can’t. 

Stiles can feel himself panicking, and he knows that Scott can hear his heartbeat from the other room. However, he can’t bring himself to care. Who fucking cares anymore? Surely not Stiles. 

He walks back out to the table and throws his food away. Who fucking cares.

“You’re killing yourself, Stiles. Why are you doing this?” Scott starts hesitantly, keeping his eyes trained on the table, “ I should have said something long ago, but every time I was about to, it seemed like you were doing better. And for the past few months, it seems like you’re worse than ever. I love you, Stiles, you’re like my brother. I just can’t let you do this to yourself.”

“You don’t understand Scott, you have a crazy metabolism. You don’t understand what it’s like to be human,” Stiles says 

“More than half the people I know are human, Stiles, and no one else is doing this. It’s not normal! You have a problem, and you need help before you end up dying.”

“I don’t have a fucking eating disorder, Scott. I’m on a diet so I’m not fucking fat anymore. Is it a crime to want to be slimmer now?” Stiles asks angrily 

“It’s not just a diet, Stiles! How can you not see that you have a problem?” Scott almost yells 

“I don’t know why you suddenly think that this is your business. You’re always with Allison, you don’t see me eat every meal. I do fucking eat, okay?” Stiles sighs. This whole conversation is filling him with dread, and he wants it to end. 

“If you don’t have a problem, then I’m going to tell your dad about your little ‘diet.’”

“No, Scott, come on. All you will do is stress him out.” 

“I would rather stress out your dad, then see my best friend die,” Scott whispers. 

“Look, man, I’ve just been stressed recently, and I upped my dose of Adderall, so I’ve been eating less. I can admit that maybe I haven’t been eating as much as I should, but it’s not that purposeful,” Stiles says desperately. 

“You just said you were trying to lose weight because you are fat, and now you are trying to tell me it’s not purposeful? Stiles, please, I’m just concerned.” 

“Please just drop it. I’ll eat more, I promise.” 

“The problem is, I don’t believe you. This will kill you, and you know that.” 

“Maybe I want to fucking die, Scott. Sorry you don’t understand that every day is fucking agony. The first thought I have every morning is ‘dear god I wish I didn’t wake up’. I hate myself so much, and I really don’t think anything can get better anymore. There’s no point! So you know what Scott, if it kills me, I’ll be lucky,” Stiles says angrily, breathing heavily. He knows he shouldn’t have said that, but who cares. Once again stipid Stiles has lost control and fucked up. 

“Stiles-“ Scott begins. 

“I don’t want to hear it, Scott. I have to go, I’ll see you later.” 

Stiles gets in his car and drives home. Sitting in his driveway, Stiles starts to sob. He can’t take it anymore. He hates himself so much. There isn’t a singular quality about himself that he doesn’t despise. He cannot fathom that there will be a time in his life when he doesn’t feel like this. And now Scott wants to bring his dad into his eating habits? He literally cannot imagine a worse thing. Maybe he should just kill himself. He’s been thinking about it more seriously recently. Google can be very helpful, and Stiles knows exactly how he would do it. But he can’t right now, because Scott will think it’s his fault, and he can’t do that to him. 

It’s July 18th. Maybe he’ll do it on July 31st. Leave the world right before a new month. It sounds kind of nice. He knows that he probably won’t go through with it, but having a set date that he’s finally going to end it all calms him down enough to enter his house. Maybe this is the only way. His dad will get over it eventually.


End file.
